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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634185">a moment during</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenLi/pseuds/JenLi'>JenLi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Selection OC 6 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Selection OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:42:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenLi/pseuds/JenLi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge 5 - The Ball</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Mondeli/Guillotine, Jen Li/Arin Schreave</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Selection OC 6 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a moment during</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello. Third fic in a week. I thrive on attention.</p><p>(I say that and pretend this wasn't three weeks late)</p><p>Me, Grammarly, and God.</p><p>Warning: Uhhh a bit more NSFE. A moderately high PG-13.</p><p>TW: More references to sexual assault, this time with implications of rape.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jen always liked champagne. Something about the sheer joy of bringing out a bottle made it one of her favorites because there were no bad memories. It was always just bubbles and countdowns and giggling, even if the hangovers were always the biggest killers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks were starting to hurt already from the amount she’d been smiling, slowly but surely, though she wasn’t sure why. A combination of the alcohol and music, perhaps, but there was also the simple fact that Idalia was here too, leading her in waltzes simply because she was the taller of the two. They’d been together most of the night, and Jen couldn’t deny the fact it was nice to have a friend next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy to not think that night, just letting herself get caught up in the pretty dresses and sparkling lights, even if she wasn’t particularly happy about coming in the first place. When she’d heard about a ball occurring, her immediate reaction had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d seen pictures of the extravagant royal events before when pictures would circulate online. She’d always thought of the dresses and drinks and decorations as sheer wastefulness but never paid that much mind to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, something about it felt wrong, but she couldn’t deny how nice it felt, how easy it was to sink into the atmosphere, and let herself just be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she drank champagne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heels were tall by her own request, and the alcohol was the best way to numb the pain, but she made sure to only take small sips. The last thing she needed was letting herself get a little too tipsy and spill on the entirely too expensive dress her maids had forced her to wear. Sure, she’d picked it out, but that was only because she had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen couldn’t deny she liked the dress, though. It was simple enough to not stand out but outrageous enough that she would definitely not be able to wear it anywhere else besides a palace ball. She would admit it was pretty, the thought passing even as she picked up another glass of champagne. Her last, most likely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she sipped on the glass, her eyes scanned over the ballroom, not looking for anything in particular. She would give credit where it was due to the decorators because the decor was, indeed, immaculate in every aspect. The night seemed to be going perfectly as far as she knew, not a single thing attempting to ruin it except for her shoes threatening to rub blisters into her toe, but she could ignore that to focus on the champagne and the dress and the smile still on her face as she watched the dancers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen managed to only jump a little bit, and she kept her grip on the glass as she looked over to see Arin. “What did I say about sneaking up on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To warn you next time, but someone never gave me my bell back.” His eyes went to her glass, and he reached behind them to pick up a new glass from the drinks table they were right next to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because you forgot it.” She took a sip of her drink before looking at him again. “Don't worry. It's safe in my bedside drawer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilted his glass toward hers, and she matched his to cheers before bringing it back to her lips as he spoke again. “Am I ever going to get it back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps. Guess we’ll have to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen kept her eyes on the dancing and the party, but she could feel his eyes on her for a few long moments. “You’re glowing tonight, Bee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met for a split-second before she tore her gaze away, not trusting herself to look at him normally. She’d thought enough about the things he’d said when they were painting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think you're funny, kind, empathetic—even if you don't really like letting people in—and you're brilliant.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even if she had a hard time believing him, she couldn’t deny the amount she would lie awake and remember. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I've never met a Jen who wasn't pretty and stunning.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She lifted her glass to her lips to drink. “Thank you. It’s been a good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes stayed trained forward, so hers did too. “What have you done so far?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night was still fairly early, midnight still far. If it weren’t for the bit of champagne, she was sure she would’ve already been at one of the tables sit up, completely exhausted. She had no idea how these royals maintained their energy. “Drank a bit, ate a bit, danced a bit. The usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked over at her then, so she did too, watching as he took another sip of his drink before speaking. “You haven't danced with me yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen couldn’t say she was surprised he mentioned it. He’d danced with a few girls already, and she could only assume he was trying to dance with them all at least once, so she had to be next on his list. Even if she was just another name to check off, she wouldn’t mind dancing with him. “I guess I haven’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, it that a yes?” He stepped a little closer until their arms were pressed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile widened. “Only if you think you can keep up with me,” she said, knowing very well he definitely went to more dancing functions than she ever had been invited to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think?” He chuckled. “I know I can keep up with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finished off his glass of champagne, she took a longer sip before setting her glass next to his on the table. “Are you sure? I went to prom three-and-a-half times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked a bit. “Then what are we waiting for?” He offered her his hand just as the current song was ending, so she immediately set her hand in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whisk me away, Prince Arin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish, Lady Jen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led her out to the dance floor without hesitance, and even if she felt like everyone was watching them, she kept her eyes on him. The music began just as he pulled her to him, a piece she wasn’t familiar with, but she could match the tempo. She wasn’t sure if she would qualify her dancing abilities as a hidden talent, but she was always able to follow with ease, a skill she was most definitely grateful for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” he said, smiling a little as he looked at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At her height now, she didn’t have to crane her neck quite as much to see him, and the slightly numbed pain in her toes was almost worth it for that alone. “I thought we already did the greeting thing. You know, when you scared me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not allowed to say ‘hi’ more than once?” His hand on the bare skin of her back brushed just below the hem of her dress, and she couldn’t help but smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we can do it again,” she said. “Hello. How are you this lovely evening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing too bad.” He tilted his head a bit, eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “But I am wondering something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can someone have half a prom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her expression faltered a little at the question, though she was half-expecting it earlier. Nevertheless, she composed herself, the smile returning to her face. “Left early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And you missed out on all the dancing?” His eyes went down to their feet for a moment. “Which you're clearly good at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed her lips together to repress a smirk. That was something she didn’t a camera to pick up on when they were definitely watching them. “My boyfriend and I decided his parents being out of town was a better way to spend the night.” She would say it had been a nice way to spend the night, though she wished she’d stayed just to spend one of the last moments of high school with her friends. That night with Landry hadn’t been her first, but it had been one of the last before their inevitable break-up. She still remembered it with fond memories as she did with most of her teenage fumblings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin’s face definitely made telling the story worth it, though she hoped the photographers would leave that one out of the photos that would inevitably be published. The smirk on his face was what tipped her off that his surprise wasn’t exactly unwelcome. “Well, you'll be happy to know that I'm old enough to where I don't have to wait for my parents to be out of town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The statement made her fingers tighten on his shoulder, but she forced her expression to remain comfortable. The idea of not just sex but sex with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arin Schreave</span>
  </em>
  <span> was coming into her mind more often than she liked to admit, and she wasn’t sure if one of these days her self-control was going to be strong enough to say no. It wasn’t exactly completely her fault either, especially after he’d pulled what he had in the attic. He had to pay his dues for planting the idea in her head in the first place. “Then let's hope the walls in this place are thick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, keeping his eyes on her as he leaned the slightest bit closer. “You just... you never miss a beat, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t I?” She tilted her head. “I have no idea what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes a bit. “Sure you don't,” he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. “I'm sure you have no idea at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None, really.” She returned the squeeze he’d given her, letting her eyes glance around for a few moments before returning to his. “Is this what palace balls are usually like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze also went around the room for a moment, and he shrugged. “Well, usually they don't have this many people that I've made out with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost choked, really almost stumbled in those stupid heels, but she didn’t, only spared a glance next to her to make sure none of the other couples dancing were within earshot. “Don't make me think about that right now.” She didn’t have enough of a grasp on her feelings for him to contemplate exactly how she felt about him kissing other girls, but she knew she didn’t like it. She wasn’t going to let herself get particularly jealous or anything because she had technically signed up for an open relationship with 34 other women, but that didn’t stop her from seeing the 11 other girls and feeling a little… emptier. Jen wouldn’t blame any of them, of course, because they had just as much right to pursue a relationship if that was what they wanted to do. Still, that didn’t stop the tightness in her chest when she thought about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why shouldn't I?” he asked. “I believe you might be one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little more at ease at that, she hummed, looking up at him. “Was I? I can't recall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a small noise of amusement. “You and your memory... It's a good thing that I don't mind reminding you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A very good thing. It’s a pity we’re not alone.” She gave a hint of a smirk. “I really do need reminded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This close, she could hear him suck in a breath very well. “Well, the night is still young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed a little bit closer, lowering her voice as her fingers tightened on him. This was perhaps not a great idea to ask, but she would be damned if she didn’t try. “You know, these shoes are starting to hurt. Maybe you have a place to remedy that.” Not a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smirk widened a bit as she looked up at him, wishing she could do a lot more than that. “Then that's pretty lucky, isn't it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it is, but I'm holding off on judgment.” With his head, he motioned to the back of the room toward the wall of windows that had multiple French doors that led out to balconies. “The doors on the far left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes went from the doors in question and then back to him. “I guess we'll see, won't we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?” he asked, voice lower though no one could hear them. “Or later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pain is unbearable.” She smiled, obviously not suffering as much as she pretended to, but he would know either way. “I'll go out first. Follow me in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see how much you’re suffering,” he told her in feigned sympathy as he loosened his grip on her. “See you in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen let him go then despite the song not being over, sending him one last smirk before her face returned to normal. She walked from the dance floor with the tiniest limp, and whether it was real or not was up in the air. She didn’t look over her shoulder as she headed to the door where he told her to, first making sure to check no one else was occupying the space and then slipping out when it was clear. Jen had to give it to him—it was a nice space. A little plain by itself but private and perfectly lit with the light streaming through the sheer curtains bathing the space in a soft glow. She considered for a moment what to do while she waited, but she ultimately settled on something a little familiar to both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin came exactly when promised, slipping through the doors and shutting them behind him while holding two champagne glasses. His eyes stayed on her, though she couldn’t blame him since she doubted he was expecting her to be sitting atop the balcony ledge, her dress splayed out on each side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” she said, reaching for the glass he offered out once he stood directly in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, hello.” His eyes were still on her. On her face, on the dress. She really didn’t mind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen was already feeling her previous drink a bit, but not enough to be tipsy. If she finished this one, she would definitely be there, and that wasn’t what anyone here would want. After a sip, she set the glass next to her, far enough away to hopefully not get spilled. “Have you come to relieve me of my pain?” She wouldn’t mind him kneeling for her again, taking off her shoes like a proper gentleman would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. “I might have come to check on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned back a little, setting her arms on the concrete ledge of the balcony to keep herself from falling. “And how am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes raked over her again, looking as if he was scrutinizing her, though she knew he wasn’t. “Still glowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She forced herself not to suck in a breath, not to do anything that would break her composure. She didn’t want to ruin this little game. Instead, she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she kept her eyes on him, smirking just a bit. “Am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step closer. “You are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know.” She didn’t hide the fact that she looked him over as well, going from his choice of shoes to the meticulously-styled hair that she immediately wanted to mess up. “I'd say you're also doing pretty well. Though…” She tilted her head and gestured for him to come forward. When he did, her fingers immediately unbutton the buttons on his tux jacket, and her eyes returned to his as she continued to hold him. “I think I like the t-shirt more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned a bit closer, setting the flute of champagne on the ledge. “You think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed and let go of the jacket to press her hands to his waist underneath it. “As much as I love a sexy tux, I might prefer you without it. Cuter like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm starting to think maybe you don't actually have a thing for me.” He chuckled, looking down at her. “Maybe it's just my shirts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept smiling as she looked up at him. “I don't think so because I'd be just as fine with you not wearing one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyebrows raised. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Ah,” he said, eyes flitting to her champagne glass. “I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing where he looked, she followed his gaze and laughed. “Just a little, but I'm fine. I know when to stop, and... here is definitely it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “It's good to know your stopping point. I think that's in for me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept her hands at his sides, rubbing her thumbs into the fabric of his waist as she held him, perhaps more pleased than she ought to have been. This was the first time she’d seen him drink since the first night in the kitchen, but she couldn’t hold casual party drinking against him. Really, it was none of her business either way, but she wouldn’t deny the fact that she liked it. “Still not drinking much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tons of water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Water is good.” She pulled away her hands then to settle them back onto the concrete. “Also my beverage of choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Water is good?’” He laughed. “How much of the champagne did you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes as she reached to grab his tux jacket again. “Will you just kiss me instead of being a smartass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Well, if you insist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like the princess in whatever fairy-tale she was living in that night deserved, Arin cupped reached up with both hands to cup her cheeks before pressing his lips to hers. The fairy-tales usually ended there, but she was the one who reached up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He followed but still felt so far away when all she wanted was him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t kissed like this in the attic for a reason she couldn’t explain, just a short peck here and there with their accompanying suggestive dialogue. It hadn’t been that it was awkward, just… different, not wanting to change the atmosphere when everything had just felt so right. Tonight felt right in a different way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched him where they agreed she could, her mind already becoming a flurry of hands and fabric and tongue and cologne. Everything was becoming firmer and firmer, less of a question of what this was and more of an answer of what they both wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his hands messed up her hair, she did the same. When he pressed closer, she did too. Noises escaped from her lips, quiet enough to only be heard by the two of them as his hand went to her bare back again, like he was making sure she wouldn’t fall even when that was the very last thing on her mind at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not close enough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hiked up her skirt up to her knees, not paying any mind to the sight any person would get if they happened to check if the balcony was occupied, and, frankly, she didn’t care, especially as he stepped between her legs and let himself settle between them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Closer.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her hands went to the top of his pants then to pull out his shirts and slip her hands under, exactly where he’d said it was okay to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She might’ve been content with this if his hands hadn’t moved to settle on her knees, sliding up further to the sides of her bare thighs, but he’d given her a taste. Her hands immediately went to his belt, working on the buckle with steady but desperate hands, despite knowing how fucking stupid having sex on a balcony in the middle of a ball with no protection was, but nothing rational clicked in until Arin pulled away with a gasp. “Jen…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, she couldn’t think, nothing of what she’d just done—or tried to do—registering in her brain for a few incredulous seconds, but the moment it did, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” She glanced up at his face and broke out into a smile from how disheveled he was already. God knew how bad it would be if they’d actually gone through with it. “Come here, you have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for him again, a lot more innocently this time, and he immediately did as she asked, still gasping for air. “It's okay, you just caught me off guard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wiped the lipstick off his mouth first with her fingers and then on herself with the back of her hand. It was definitely better off at this point. When she was satisfied, she leaned in to kiss him again, much softer this time around. “Compared to this, the attic would've been a much better idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a little better,” he said, letting out a breathless laugh before leaning back in to match her kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen didn’t respond but pulled him back to her, kissing him just a little more fervently as her arms looped around his neck yet again to hold him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled back a little before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Jen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept her eyes closed, still coming back down from what they’d just been doing. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips pressed to her left cheek. “Bombus,” he murmured, and she smiled as she realized what he was doing, her thumb continuing to draw circles into the back of his neck. He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose, his voice still soft. “Bee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile widened, enjoying the light feeling in her chest. She hadn’t noticed it all night, but she could now, now with him. She liked to think she was happy. She was with a boy she liked in a place that didn’t remind her of home. She was at a ball and drank champagne, and now she was being held. Arin’s arms were safe, the way he touched her was safe, the way he kissed her was safe. She was safe. Here with him, here as he kissed her, she could just forget and feel like she really meant something to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kiss to her lips was quick, not murmuring anything as if he just couldn’t help himself, before going to her right cheek. “Jennie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jennie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knows her eyes are red-rimmed, but he hadn’t seemed to care earlier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jennie, you didn’t answer my question.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She can’t remember his question, but it isn’t the alcohol, though she can still feel its effects just slightly. She closes her eyes, burrowing her face into her pillow so that he can’t see the tears, but it doesn’t help. It smells like him now. Versace.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d made a special trip to a store to pick it out six years ago, and it’s all he’s worn since.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry,” she mumbles out, still not opening her eyes. The room isn’t spinning, but it may as well have been. “Say it again?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you want to shower with me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not “Are you okay?” Not “Why are you crying?” Not “Did I do something wrong?” Not “Is this what you wanted?” Not “What can I do to make this better?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He just wants to wash the scent of her away before he goes back to his wife and daughter for dinner.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She opens her eyes and gives him the widest smile she can muster. Even a single glance would reveal she isn’t okay, but he doesn’t ask. “I need a few minutes. You go ahead.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t say anything yet, simply leans forward to kiss her. She doesn’t fight him on it. When he pulls back, he smiles, eyes soft, and that’s the looks she tries to keep on his face for the next four months. “You did so well, Jennie. You’ll be even better next time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next time. As if having sex with a man she’d looked up to as a father for years once wasn’t enough. “Ian?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s already pulling away, but he pauses. “Yes?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you still love me?” Maybe it’s the alcohol that gives her the courage to ask, but maybe it’s the sheer anxiety. She hasn’t stopped thinking about his words in the office a week ago. She just needs to know if it’s true.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He smiles down at her and presses his lips against her cheek. “I love you so much. Love you more than anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More than his wife. More than his daughter. More than his job. More than her father.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She starts crying again, and he just walks to her bathroom, leaving her to curl up in the messied sheets and try to ignore how this came to happen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She just wanted to talk about her essay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin had spoken before the question, but she hadn’t heard it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jennie</span>
  </em>
  <span> kept playing through her mind like a broken record player. Over and over. She opened her eyes then, not having realized she closed them, and immediately jerked away. Too close. He was too close. “Get off me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped back instantly. “Jen?” He sounded so worried, but she couldn’t look at him to see the disappointment she knew would be in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe that first time when he took her jeans off, but she still let him. She couldn’t let him now. “Of course you—” Her arms were wrapped around herself, the only thing keeping herself together. Tears were already in her eyes. “I—” She couldn’t seem to form a sentence. Nothing was coming out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jen? Please talk to me.” His hand went out to touch her arm, but she didn’t completely process what he was doing. That he wanted to touch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes went to the champagne glass next to them, the one he’d given her. Ian had made her drink too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll help you relax,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d told her. She’d just wanted to feel numb. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, jerking away from his hand. “You’re—” Her lip quivered as she looked down into her lap, shaking her head in disbelief. “I should've known you'd be just like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fully stepped away from her then. “Jen, what did I do? I'm sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reasonable part of her brain hated how his voice sounded. She was hurting him. She was hurting him, and she didn’t want to be, but he kept reminding her of him. She was hurt. If she hurt Arin enough, maybe he wouldn’t get the opportunity to hurt her. It wasn’t what she wanted, but if that was how this ended up, she would live with it somehow. “I need to go.” She jumped from the ledge, pulling her skirt down as she went, but the heel of her right foot didn’t stay upright when she landed, instead rolling to the side and taking her to the ground with it. She gasped when she hit the concrete, the dress breaking some of the fall, but spraining her ankle was just another addition to the list of things she had to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jen. Please,” he said as he reached to help her, pleading now, but she jerked away, afraid of what his touch would make her remember, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> she might see standing in his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored him as she sat up and immediately tore off her shoes, throwing them against the ground as she stood. Her ankle was simply throbbing now, a nice distraction if not anything else as she distanced herself even further. “Leave me alone.” She finally met his eyes then and immediately regretted when she saw the heartbreak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to do this to him, but she had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rushed to the doors, blocking her from making her escape. She wasn’t even sure if she would’ve been able to if she tried. A limping girl carrying her shoes with tear-stained cheeks may have raised some suspicion, and that was the last thing she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to leave her. He was going to leave, and she was going to have to be alone with the fact that she’d messed up yet another good thing. Another mistake she couldn’t take back. “Can you get Idalia?” she asked, voice cracking. She needed someone, even if she would’ve only ruined her night too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always so selfish.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Please,” she added a little softer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remind you of him, don't I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach lurched at the question, a confrontation to the truths she never wanted to face. Ian’s invasion of everything in her life that was good. She hated him for it. She just wanted to be happy, even if it was all a lie and would leave her wishing she never had been. Every moment she thought everything was okay still left her with haunting memories of all the mistakes she’d ever made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say? Everything reminds me of him. I wake up every fucking morning, and I think of him. He was the last man who kissed me, the last man who touched me, the last man who said he loved me.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>You wouldn’t want me to stop, would you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I believed it, and now…” She sucked in a shaky breath, not able to comprehend what now even was. “I can't do it anymore, Arin. I'm tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tired of sleeping. Tired of being awake. Tired of pretending. Tired of everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I'm just the man who's holding you back and reminding you of him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved to open the door, to leave her, and it only made her heart drop even more. She’d done it. She’d pushed away one of the few people that were beginning to make her feel okay, and now she was going to be alone with that disappointment. Alone. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to her, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a shaky breath. “I don't want you to apologize.” He didn’t meet her eyes, but she could still tell what she’d done. “Can I at least know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t understand why he was prolonging the inevitable of him leaving when it was just making things harder for the both of them, but she knew she’d hurt him. She could tell by that look in his eyes. “It's not you. I—” She tried to say more but couldn’t. “It's not you. It never is. I'm sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I know who it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian. She wanted to tell him his name was Ian, her college professor, her family friend, a man she’d put all her trust into, but anytime the name was even close to coming out, more words rang through her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>To the grave.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “He'll ruin my life. He'll do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step closer, but he didn’t reach for her. She wished she had. She just wanted to feel like things were okay. “He won’t, I won't let him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, but she was still crying, so the action was useless. “I’m still so scared that—” She cut herself off, not completely sure what she was going to say because there was an array of different answers she could’ve provided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was scared of seeing him again. She was scared she would let herself go back to him. She was scared he would ruin a career she hadn’t been able to start. She was scared of all the secrets that could come out to make a mess of everything she’d spent so long working toward. She was scared he was going to ruin his own life, his family’s life in pursuit of ruining hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The list was a long one that got longer the more she thought about him, so she could only settle with one. “I’m still scared he got me pregnant.” That one had been admitted aloud once. Maybe not the fear aspect, but the fact that it happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still thought about it sometimes, what she would’ve done, what she would do now if by some curse all of this was fake. She knew how biology worked well enough to know the chances were more than slim, but late at night when her mind wouldn’t rest, that didn’t matter then. Jen had always wanted kids, but Ian tainted the idea of that too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin sucked in a breath and stepped closer, reaching for her again but not touching like he was afraid to. She supposed she’d made it clear enough she hadn’t wanted him to. “Jen?” he asked in disbelief, eyes raking over her like he was checking again to see if he’d missed the fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He tried to before I came here,” she said, leaning into the hand reaching for her because she wanted him back. She hated feeling alone like this. “I-I handled it, but sometimes I still feel like the universe is sick enough to make me. I'm sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes for a moment for just a second before looking at her again with a steadying breath. One of them had to be strong here. “Tell me what I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing that he could do that she would make it stop, but there was one thing left still in his grasps. Jen took another step forward and wrapped her arms around him beneath his jacket. “Just... tell me I'm going to be okay. Even if it's a lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin held her close, his grip firm but not tight around her. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was right. She knew she was safe. That part hadn’t changed. No matter what Ian had done to her, no matter how scared she was, Arin wasn’t him, and she’d made him feel like he was. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't apologize,” he murmured as he smoothed out her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifted her head against his chest at that, grip tightening around him. “I shouldn't have compared you to him. You're nothing like him. I'm sorry I said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a breath. “You don't have to apologize. I'm sorry for… what I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew he didn’t know. She had never mentioned anything about that nickname, didn’t even know the continuance of memories it brought back. “You keep saying that, but you deserve one. You couldn't have known.” The truth was hard to explain, but he deserved it. “He... called me Jennie. I didn't realize how much it would make me remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The first time, she cries, and he doesn’t even spare her a glance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin stiffened physically stiffened against her at the confession. “I—Jen… Is he a professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ceased breathing for a moment but quickly resumed, too afraid he could read her reaction. How could he have known? There was no way to make that assessment just by her story alone unless she’d mentioned she hadn’t meant to. Things had gotten so muddled up in her mind that maybe she’d let something slip. “Why would he be a professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All you have to say is yes or no. I'll leave it at that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused again, her mind racing to figure out exactly how to answer this. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to help her escape this hell, but he was a prince. The things he could do to Ian if he knew… No matter how much she wanted him away from her, she couldn’t ruin his family’s life. “He went to my school. That's why I can't go back.” Not a lie, per sé. Ian had been a part of Yale’s Class of 2058 and 2060.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin made no further comment on who it was, just held her, and for that she was grateful. “I'm here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank,” she said before pulling back a little to look at him but still holding on. “And you'll never be like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look in his eyes made her almost wish she hadn’t let herself look, just stayed in denial to the truth as always, but she understood then as he said her name in the softest tone she’d heard him speak in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to make this mistake again. She never wanted to see that look on his face and know she was the one who’d caused it. However this ended, no matter what reality threw at her, she wanted him to feel as safe with her as she did with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen didn’t speak right away, letting herself soak up this moment as he held her while she wore this stupidly extravagant dress and him in the tuxedo in disarray. The light was still streaming in through the curtains from the ball, and she could vaguely hear the music if she focused on it. So many people out there waiting for him, so many girls wishing to dance while she kept him in her arms. A part of her was pleased with the fact, but the other knew better than to let herself become too attached to the idea of having him to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifted her hands up to cup his face, thumb brushing over his jaw. “People are going to start looking for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steeled herself at the nod he gave her. “I know.” He looked at the door next to them, at the light and the figures of people. She waited for him to let go, tell her he had to get back, but he didn’t. “But for the first time, I'm not sure I care what they think about me being gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face before returning to hug him again just because she could. They didn’t have any kind of security. She didn’t know what the hell was going to happen, but he was staying, and that was all she wanted. After everything she’d done, he was staying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t quell the nervousness in her stomach or the anxiety in her chest or the throbbing in her ankle, but it helped to actually feel like everything was going to be okay. “I think I sprained my ankle,” she murmured into his chest, testing her weight against it. The last time she’d injured it was four years ago at volleyball practice, so it was nice to know previous injuries were still testing her to this day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin let go of her and stepped back to look her over, and she immediately regretted saying anything for that simple fact. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good,” she said and really meant it. She always felt a little better after crying. “I think I may be done with dancing sadly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Okay.” He glanced at the doors again and sighed before looking back to her. “Ready for bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, she’d been ready for a while, even if it had been a good night. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to her these days, and that was one of the things she feared. “If I must,” she said, sighing dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a soft smile. “Do you think you can make it to the stairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I can't? Will you carry me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilted his head to the side, his eyes still on her. “Once we get to the stairs I'll carry you all the way to bed if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouldn’t have liked that idea as much as she did. “I suppose I can manage the pain until the stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for the doors then but stopped as he looked back to her. She could tell they were having the same line of thought. Something about this felt dangerous, but she didn’t want to stop. “Just until the stairs,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached to open the door, but a quick scan over the state of his clothes made her stop him. “You might want to tuck in your shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at himself once before sighing and stepping away from her to tuck his shirt back into his pants and rebutton the tuxedo back. When he looked back to her, his eyes went to her dress. “You might want to…” He trailed off as he reached out to put one of the dress straps back into place, and she couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she did, she reached up to fix the hair that was sticking out of place as best she could before letting her hands fall. “There. I think we’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or as close as we're going to get,” he said, chuckling as he finally opened the door to the ballroom for her to enter first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen did so after picking up her shoes, taking a testing step before realizing her ankle would be manageable to walk with. She couldn’t say she was looking forward to walking through a crowded ballroom with the prince escorting her to her room after quite a few unseen minutes, but fuck it. People could talk if they wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked fairly slowly, but he stayed by her side, navigating her through the masses of people, and Jen kept her eyes glued straight ahead to avoid any unnecessary staring except for the search of one person. Idalia’s concerned gaze was on her already when her gaze settled on her, but Jen sent her a thumbs-up to make sure she didn’t follow. Arin could surely handle her himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Arin turning to her. “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looked up at him, smiling a bit. “Only if you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go.” He took a deep breath before hoisted her into his arms, his grip on her firm and steady as he started up the stairs. She knew it was exactly as she expected it to be, but she still found herself caught off guard, a little too reminiscent of something else for her liking. “This would be so much easier if you weren't wearing that dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, keeping her eyes on his as his struggle continued. She wasn’t that heavy by herself, but she imagined the dress did put a damper on things. “You can take it off if that's... easier. I don't mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, let me just undress you in the middle of the hall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed as if the idea wasn’t totally ridiculous. “I'm sure no one will notice.” No one was up here, after all, everyone at the party or nearby and the staff attending to the event. Nevertheless, a risky move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then what?” he asked as they neared the top of the stairs. He kept his eyes on her once they arrived on the second floor, apparently having memorized where her room was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we'll have to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin didn’t reply then, just kept walking the rest of the way to her room and fumbling with the handle of her door for a moment before it finally gave way. He entered and allowed the door to stay open with just a sliver of light escaping from the hall to light their way to her bed. “Here we are, Cinderella.” He laid her onto the already-made bed gently, and Jen immediately settled against the pillows, despite looking ridiculous in an entire ballgown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stayed lying down as she peered up at him with a smile. “I don't recall this part of the movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, hovering over her a little. “Maybe I'm thinking of Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, though I think I would prefer kissing you while you're awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head as she looked back up at him, wanting him closer but not taking the plunge quite yet. “Kissing while awake sounds much nicer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyebrows raised. “Is that so? I don't think I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of her couldn’t believe they were doing this again, but then again, they did love their little games. “Maybe I can remind you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can.” He leaned down, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of her head, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away. “I think I remember now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart was racing, all too aware of the position they were in and how much she wanted him here. Even when he pulled away, she found she liked the sight of him here a little too much. “I think my memory may also be fuzzy,” she said a little breathlessly. “Try again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he shook his head at the whole production of things, he still did as she asked, just as gently as the last time. She wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him closer, and he had to half-kneel on the bed to keep himself from collapsing on her. She shifted a little at the realization, allowing some space between her and the edge of the bed, and she felt him move closer, not breaking away as he bent his elbows down to be closer. Her hands went from his neck to unbutton his jacket again and then to untuck the shirt again. This time, though her hands simply returned to his neck this time to pull him closer instead of going further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about this was different than it was when they kissed the last time. On the balcony, her hands had been shaky, desperate in a way that was nervous, but here she kissed him without much thought. Even in a bed, even when there were things to associate here that she would rather stop thinking about, she didn’t want him to stop, and the way he was touching her told her he didn’t want to either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, Arin rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist. Jen pulled away to look down at him out of sheer surprise from the motion, but it didn’t take long for her to kiss him again, a little more dangerous for the both of them in the place they were in, in the position they were in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands settled in the places they wanted to but not in the places she wanted them, one on her bare back and the other on her face. Even with them, even with being on top of him, she felt like she couldn’t feel any of it, so her hands went to his bowtie, undoing the knot with ease before working on the buttons of his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers continue messing up her hair, but she supposed there was no one to see it now. His other dropped just below the hem of the back of her dress, dangerously close to her ass, but she knew he wasn’t going to. When the buttons were finished and Jen was satisfied enough with her work, she broke their kiss, pulling away to sit upright. He was harder to look at in the darkness, the crack in the door not aiding much light, but she could still see him, see the way he was staring up at her with the mussed hair and unbuttoned shirt and realized a few things she would store away for later. “Will you take it off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent for a moment, and she almost thought he would refuse, but he eventually leaned up enough to maneuver the shirt and jacket off, tossing it off to the side with little finesse before returning to his position with his back against the mattress. Her hands were already on his bare torso when he spoke again. “Jen—you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he trailed off, her hands paused, letting their eyes meet again. “Is this okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, taking a deep breath as he looked up at her. “More than okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words kept repeating in her head as she asked herself how she felt about this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More than okay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She agreed. This and more was exactly what she wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen leaned down to kiss him again, both of the hands on his torso going to his face as she shifted her hips just slightly, but the dress was in the way, splayed out between them, so she kept shifting to get it from beneath her, though the continuance of their kissing made it a difficult feat to accomplish, she would admit. “You're right. This would be much easier if I wasn't wearing this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, but his breath was still unsteady as he tried to help her move the skirt out of the way. “Maybe a little bit easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at that, finally managing to get the dress from beneath her and instead let it drape off the side of the bed. “Maybe just a bit.” Her bare thighs pressed into his hips, she kissed him again, her hands going to his waist and jaw while his went back to her back and face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dangerous,</span>
  </em>
  <span> her mind kept repeating, but she knew it wasn’t. Maybe dangerous in the sense that this was very much not a sure thing, but if it was what they wanted, there was nothing dangerous about it. A bad idea? Possibly, but there were condoms in a bag somewhere around this room. Things could have been exponentially worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things were never easy between them, but this could be if they let it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled away, brushing her lips against his ear. “You can take it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin’s eyes were wide when she pulled away, hand going to her waist as if he was steadying her. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said immediately, smiling, studying his face to try and read the emotions flickering across them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went for the zipper with shaking hands but stopped, his eyes going to hers again. “We can stop,” he murmured, and that made her lean down to press her lips against his again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she did know. He made it more clear than anyone she’d ever been with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her consent, he pulled the zipper down but didn’t pull off her dress quite yet, which was probably a good thing because she was decidedly not wearing a bra and wasn’t sure if he was aware of this fact. Instead, he propped himself up on his elbows to kiss her again. It was different somehow, though their phases of emotions constantly seemed to change together on a moment’s notice. His lips were so soft against hers, easy now that both of them seemed to know what was coming. She wasn’t scared, and that was the strangest thing about it all. She was scared of everything except for how he touched her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen ignored the first ping of her phone on the nightstand, too wrapped up in her own head and her own feelings to let herself think of anything outside of this room or the man beneath her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the second ping because she wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to keep feeling like she really mattered to him more than she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the third ping because his hands were on her dress, and she wanted him to take it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the fourth ping, she pulled away with a huff. “Can you hand me that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin groaned once before pulling away even more, reaching over to her nightstand to grab the phone and hand it to her. “Bee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking it, leaning back to sit upright again, the screen out of his view because God knew who was texting her at this hour, and she really didn’t need him seeing Ian harass her again. As she pulled up her messages, another text came through, revealing the messenger in question to, of course, be Idalia. The more she read, the more texts that came through.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JEN</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHY ARE U LIMPING</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ARE U OKAY</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>should I hit someone?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alternatively: what did you do</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>J</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i hopr you’re okay</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>did u go to the infirmary?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>where are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, it's Idalia wondering where we are.” Jen wanted to be endeared because she loved her friend, but this was a very inconvenient time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin fell back onto the bed from where he was propping himself up with another groan. His hands moved to hold her by the waist. “Can you tell her we're busy negotiating Illéan-New Asian relations? It's very important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes didn’t go to him, but she laughed as she typed out her reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turning in for the night. I’m okay</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she sent it, her eyes flicked inadvertently to the phone clock. They’d been gone a while already, and people would definitely start looking for him if he didn’t show his face soon. As much as she wanted him to stay, she knew that wasn’t the reality, and she really didn’t want to have a quickie for their first time. Jen wasn’t a believer in the particular sanctity of sex, but she did know she had some standards, and doing it for ten minutes during a ball wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen shut off her phone and handed it back to him to put on the nightstand before rolling off him, settling into his side with a huff. “I don't think we should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin immediately pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, you're right.” There was a serene moment he just laid there with her, holding her in his arm, but it didn’t last long before he started to get up. “You should rest and I should get back before they send a search party. I can even check in with Idalia for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew he had to go, but she pulled him back to her. “Just one more minute. Then they can have you all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled and wrapped his arm back around her as he laid back down. “60 seconds,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifted to press her face against his chest and started counting, silently at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1, 2, 3… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dangerous.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She pushed that thought away. Dangerous was everything else she’d done in her life. This wasn’t one of those moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…23, 24, 25… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how many times she’d pushed him away, he was here now. He hadn’t given up on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...38, 39, 40…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t Ian. He held her when she cried. He asked if she was okay. He held her even when they’d done nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…46, 47, 48…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She started counting out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…51, 52, 53…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wouldn’t mind doing this every night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>60.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She let him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arin kissed the top of her head before he finally pulled away, leaving her on the bed to start redressing, and she smiled as she watched him. “I was right. I don't mind you with no shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed his jacket onto the bed to put his shirt back on. “And I was right too. I prefer kissing you when you're awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen didn’t reply, just continued to watch as he dressed, even if it made her chest ache a little. When he finished buttoning and tucking his shirt back into place, he leaned over the bed to grab his jacket, but he didn’t stop until he was hovering over her, staring down at her for a moment before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Sleep well,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dance with Idalia for me,” she managed to say, though she doubted Idalia would actually be happy with the suggestion. “She'll be disappointed I bailed.” She smiled up at him and just to say something else she said, “Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away then and walked to the door with his jacket slung over his arm, bowtie draped over his neck, undone. At the door, he gave her one last look before he slipped out, encasing her in total darkness with a lot more to think about than just a sprained ankle and an unzipped dress.</span>
</p>
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